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My fatal flaw is that I have no filter. Acquaintances I barely know, people I have only met in passing, will light up when I run into them in the mall – “Oh, I love your tweets! Your blog entries! Your status updates,” they’ll say. “You’re hilarious! You’re crazy!”

I guess this is the offshoot of me being such a socially-inept, awkward nerd. I’m an affirmation whore, with an incredible need to be accepted, and the simplest, fastest way I think I can get people to like me is by making them laugh with crude crassness.

Hence the torrents of outrageous oversharing that used to populate my Twitter and Facebook accounts – what kind of underwear I’m wearing for the day, how I like to multi-task by shaving my head and smoking while taking a dump, the new sex tape scandal I’ve downloaded, etc. Things designed to fall askew of conventional social decorum, and provoke a reaction from the reader.

Above all things, I value openness, honesty, and sincerity. I can’t filter myself, because I’m such an emotional person – a classic INFP, by Myers-Briggs standards. I navigate the world by how I feel, by intuition, by how I perceive things. And closing myself off emotionally would mean I couldn’t connect to the world in that way.

And I suppose I’m leaving myself open to getting hurt when I do that. That’s the sort of thing that happens when you lay yourself out so honestly and openly to people – especially the ones you choose to love. You’re always just a little bit more vulnerable to getting your heart broken in those cases, mainly because it isn’t really inside your chest anymore – it’s in their hands, unprotected, and theirs to either cradle or crush.

But you know what?

I would choose to feel that pain one million times, over even trying to live a life without love.

That’s why it blew my mind to see him on WWE Raw last week, holding guest host duties, and singing, in his usual impassioned, imploring manner, the greatest, most iconic theme songs of today’s generation of WWE superstars.

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Had a spectacular time at Chewy’s Rockeoke-inspired 32nd birthday bash last night.

We played a lot of truly horrible, yet mind-blowingly magnificent songs with a mix-and-match lineup starring various members of the Mijares family, and Chewy’s friends from all over.

I can’t recall exactly what song was the most painful to play through, but I do remember feeling like I was violating my hardcore 90s rock n’ roll roots by the time we were knee-deep in playing true relics best-forgotten, like Alamid’s “Your Love” and the 4 Non-Blonde’s “What’s Up.”

MDJ Superstar just had to close his eyes and flash back to happier days when truly awesome music was on my set list, like Guns n’ Roses and Green Day.

I also remembered why the bass guitar is my weapon of choice – it provides the most real estate with which to hide my tummy bone.

I am also realizing that white jeans are totally unflattering for chunky, heavy-set males such as The Superstar.

As much as I think that our awesomest cover of the night was a heavy metal opera remake of Miss Saigon’s “Last Night Of The World”, there is one song that I think truly deserves to be revived and revitalized for today’s Children Of The 2000s.

Alone.

This, my friends, was the true start of emo, but nobody had realized it yet at the time.

P.S. I must say, however, that Bryan Adams’ “Heaven” deserves honorable mention on this list. Seriously. You sing this to any girl, her pink Punky Brewster panty is dropping to the floor in 4 seconds flat.

When we were growing up, you taught us that every color, every hue is represented in me and you.

In the crazy, fragmented, post-EDSA years, you helped us realize that we needed to make a stand and ask for the truly good things in life. Simpleng buhay. Sariwang hangin. Kapayapaan. Kaibigan. Kalikasan.

At a time when we all wanted to be fair-skinned, fair-haired, blue-eyed, living First World sins in a First World country, you reminded us that we are all kababayan with a race, a color, a heritage worth being proud about.

You taught us that fifty stars in spangles and stripes can never shine as brightly or as proudly as three stars and the sun.

Some will miss you, some will cry.

Some will fall as you wave goodbye.

Some will rap as they raise a toast.

Some had some, but you shared the most.

Enjoy your final resting place, kababayan. You are finally, truly, and genuinely Free.

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MDJ Superstar had nothing to do on Friday night, and agreed to chaperone the hardcore couple of Rina (who looks surprisingly demure in pictures, as compared to real life) & Nonoy (who remains to be the only man I know who I can converse with on what the fastest ever Wrestlemania match was, the awesome appeal of Barry Horowitz, and Tito Santana’s pre-flying forearm finishing move).

We ended up going to the Kjwan “13 Seconds to Love” launch at A.Venue.

Lots of pretty fireworks. It felt very Audioslave.

Not immediately obvious in this particular picture is the audience drooling over Marc Abaya’s sweat-stained shirt, and Boogie Romero’s rockin’ chaleco ensemble. This is perhaps the first ever rakrakan gig I’ve been to where there was a legit split of 50:50 between dudes and chicks.

(I think Kjwan should officially be included in the genre of Pogi Rock. Although I think Jorel would punch anyone in the mouth if they even suggested that. Champ Lui-Pio = teh ghey. Kjwan = tigas!)

Rina and Nonoy sharing a tender moment. You can draw two conclusions from this picture:

Nonoy is tall

Rina is short

Was a surprisingly decent event, and the free red wine, Jaeger shots, and lamb kebabs (amazing concert food, if you ask me, catered by Dusit Thani) made it worth the trip.

Another fantabulous event by Mrs. Mitch So and her gang over at Nokia Philippines. Buy lots and lots of Nokia! They rule! They make pretty phones! The awesome cellphone seen in The Dark Knight was the Nokia 5800 Music Express, available now at all authorized Nokia dealers now! Buy now! Spend! XOXO!

I cannot pinpoint who among the following is my absolute all-time favorite band of all time.

Guns n’ Roses – These guys made me want to pick up the guitar, and “Welcome to the Jungle” is, in my opinion, the all-time greatest rock song of all time, next only to AC/DC’s “Back in Black”. Plus, what geeky, pimply nerd did not think that Slash’s ability to play the intro riff to “Sweet Child o’ Mine” with his guitar raised behind his head was the most kick-ass thing of 1993?

Radiohead – To date, they’re the only band that can make even the angriest (i.e. “Karma Police”) or saddest (“Fake Plastic Trees”) of songs so sweepingly beautiful? Thom Yorke is a fucking God, in my opinion – if only he wasn’t so goddamn butt-ugly.

The Killers – Their very existence on this list hinges exclusively on one song, “Mr. Brightside”, which was the only song I listened to in the one year or so in between girlfriends that I was single. That makes it one fucking gorgeous song, and the only hit they ever have to have in my life. They could do a rock cover of “Row Row Row Your Boat” and I’d still think they rock.

Mr. Big – “Green-Tinted 60s Mind”. “Take Cover”. “Nothing But Love”. “Just Take My Heart”. “To Be With You”. “Shine”. “Superfantastic”. “Shine”. This is probably the most virtuoso band to make a lasting pop cultural impact (sorry, but Dream Theater, Phish, Van Halen, and the various Vai/Satriani band incarnations don’t count… they’re all strictly niche, in my mind). That’s what you get for having Billy Sheehan AND Paul Gilbert in the same band. Also, Eric Martin is pogi.

The Backstreet Boys – Hardcore. Heart-felt. Pure emotion. Howie-D. Really, no band made a bigger mass impression during the A-boy 1995-1999 years than good old BSB. If you didn’t love “Quit Playing Games”, you were a fucking queer.